Pucking Parker (Face-Off Legacy Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  I laugh as Trent speaks for both him and Tucker. They’re so bad when it comes to girls they make the rest of us look like saints.

  “I didn’t,” Drake Donovan chimes in. “There’s no reason we can’t share, Prez.” He says the last part winking at me.

  My closest friends call me Prez. Jamie started it when we were younger, and the mysterious z that’s not in my name somehow became part of my nickname. Almost no one calls me Preston, and no one who wants to live calls me Peter.

  “Hard pass,” I tell Drake. “I don’t want Trent or Tucker’s slopping seconds.”

  Drake is the son of Carter Donovan. Like his dad, he’s a goaltender, one of the best in Division I. At six-feet-seven, Drake still has a few inches on me. He’s built like his dad, a giant whose muscular body covers most of the net. But don’t let his size fool you. It doesn’t slow him down one bit.

  Jamie laughs. “You better look for girls on another campus then.”

  Jameson O’ Connor, Jr. is the grandson of Mike Turner, a legendary hockey player and former manager of the Philadelphia Flyers. His dad, my uncle Jameson, is also my mom’s best friend. Our parents met in foster care when they were kids and basically raised each other. In some ways, Jamie and me are like brothers.

  All of our parents are linked in various ways, mostly through hockey. Because of that, we grew up with skates on our feet and on the ice together. We all knew what it was like to have famous parents. Our upbringing is strange compared to our classmates, but it’s also what bonds us.

  “Did Coach’s daughter look different to you?” I ask Jamie. “I didn’t recognize her at first.”

  He shoves a hand through his short brown hair, his eyes narrowed at me. “That girl was Coach’s daughter? No way.”

  I nod. “Yeah, that was Bex Bryant.”

  “Damn,” Drake says. “What happened to her? The last time I saw her she looked like a little girl.”

  Trent scratches the light stubble along his jaw. “She has tits now. Nice ones.” He pauses for a second. “Why? You like her?”

  I don’t respond at first. Do I like her?

  I shrug. “She’s hot. I’d fuck her.”

  “She has nice legs,” Drake says.

  “Nice tits,” Jamie adds.

  “But she’s Coach’s daughter,” I shoot back. “He would flip his shit if I went anywhere near her.”

  “Right, right,” Trent says.

  “He’s not used to any girl being off-limits,” Jamie says. “And if you were smart, Prez, you would stay away from Bex Bryant. Coach will kick your ass.”

  I snort. “I’d like to see him try.”

  “You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Drake interjects. “We need all the playing time we can get this year if we want to get in the NHL.”

  He’s right. No girl is worth jeopardizing my future. Contrary to belief, I can’t make a pro team just because my dad had talent. I have to prove I can hack it, too. And I have big shoes to fill. So do the rest of my friends.

  Drake taps me on the arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat before we head home. We’re out of food.”

  “That’s because you ate it all,” Tucker growls.

  “I want pizza from Gio’s,” Drake says.

  I turn to Drake and shake my head, disappointed. “Our first game of the season is three days from now, and you want to eat junk food already?”

  He holds up his middle finger with a stupid look on his face. “Kiss my ass, Cap.”

  He calls me that because I’m the captain of our team.

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “Stop being such a hard ass, Prez,” Trent groans. “What’s one slice?”

  “You take your captain duties way too serious,” Drake says. “If Trent and Tuck can have a beer every night, then I can eat pizza.”

  “Fine,” I grunt. “If we lose on Friday, or you look like shit on the ice, I’m blaming all of you. All you do is jerk off.”

  “More like jerk each other off,” Jamie jokes.

  I laugh.

  “Don’t be a dick.” Drake punches Jamie in his arm.

  Jamie flinches from the hard hit and returns his gesture. “Asshole.”

  This is a typical day for us.

  We live in the same house together, eat most meals together, work out and play hockey together. Our lives are so intertwined we never have much space. Some days, I want to beat the living shit out of all of them just so they’ll give me some room to breathe. But they are family. And family sticks together. Even when they can be annoying as fuck.

  “One slice,” I tell Drake. “You were sluggish at practice.”

  “Easy for you to say, Prez.” Drake gives me a nasty look. “You could eat ten pizzas and never lose an ounce of muscle.”

  I ignore his comment. It’s not as easy for me to stay in game-ready shape as he thinks. I have to work my ass off. Living up to the Parker name is hard enough. Everyone compares my hockey stats to my dad. The pressure to be as good as him, or even better, is often suffocating.

  The streets are crowded at this hour, with students scrambling back to their dorms. We cross to the other side, making our ways to Giovanni’s Pizza.

  Trent taps me on the bicep with his elbow. “What were you talking to Coach’s daughter about? It looked pretty intense.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right. That didn’t look like nothing to me.”

  “I told her she was in the wrong locker room. And that she had a weird name.”

  “So do you,” he challenges.

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Oooh.” Jamie slaps his hand on his thigh, laughing.

  “Real smooth, Prez,” Drake says. “Like you have room to talk about weird names, Spidey.”

  I punch him in the arm, almost knocking him off balance. “Call me that again and watch what happens.”

  I hate being named after Spider-Man, all because my dad lost a stupid bet to Uncle Jameson before I was born. There was no way I was going to tell anyone my name was Peter Parker. The reactions I got when I was younger were enough to make me think twice about going to college with that name. I could imagine the NHL announcers laughing when they said my name on TV. To save myself from further humiliation, I use my middle name. It’s easier than explaining my life to strangers.

  “Coach will rip your dick off if he catches you looking at his daughter like that again,” Trent says. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you eye-fucking the shit out of her.”

  I wink. “Good thing he didn’t catch me.”

  “Coach loves him,” Jamie counters. “He treats Prez like a son. I’m sure he’d give him a pass to hit that.”

  “Now, I really can’t fuck his daughter… seeing as how that would make us related.”

  He laughs, opening the door to the crowded pizzeria for me. “You got me there. But seriously, if you like her, I bet he wouldn’t care. He’d make an exception for his team captain.”

  Would he, though? Doubtful.

  We step inside to wall-to-wall booths filled with college kids. Some people are sitting at the bar that runs along the right side, shoveling slices into their mouths. Gio’s is the local hangout for most people on campus. The pizza shop is almost always open, making it the perfect place to come when you’re drunk and need a quick bite to eat.

  “Great, nowhere to sit.” Drake glances around the room and rubs his stomach. “Maybe we should get a pie to go.”

  “Nah, we can stand and eat,” I say.

  Tucker points at a table of familiar girls. “I’m sure they would make room for us.”

  I shake my head. “Been there done that. Stay away from the redhead. She’s batshit crazy.”

  “I’d hit that,” Drake says.

  Tucker makes a gagging sound. “I don’t do Parker’s sloppy seconds,” he says to mock my comment from earlier.

  Jamie shrugs, unaffected. “Prez has good taste in women.”

  “It�
��s called standards, something Tucker and Trent don’t seem to have.”

  We stroll up to the counter, about to order when I hear Coach Bryant call my name. I look over my shoulder. He’s with his daughter in a booth by the window. She stares at me, with a slice of half-eaten pepperoni pizza in her hand. Grease drips down the right side of her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to care. I like this girl. Bex doesn’t give two fucks. Most girls would have blushed by now and wiped their face. Not Bex. Zero fucks given.

  I walk over to their table, flanked by Drake, Tucker, Trent, and Jamie. Bex bites into her pizza, now ignoring me, while Coach slaps his hand down on the seat next to him.

  “Why don’t you guys come sit with us.”

  “Thanks for the invite, Coach.” I wave him off. “But we don’t want to crash your dinner.”

  “No, that’s nonsense. I insist.” He looks to his daughter for confirmation. “Honey, you don’t mind, right?”

  Bex shrugs and slides along the bench, moving her plate across the table with her. She finishes her slice and then wipes her mouth with a napkin.

  “Have you guys met my daughter, Bex?”

  “Not until she ran into me in the locker room earlier,” I admit.

  Her eyes widen, as if I said something wrong.

  Coach cocks a curious eyebrow at her.

  “I lied about coming in through the side entrance,” she says to clear up his confusion. “I didn’t even know there was one until today.”

  His cheeks flush once he realizes she walked through a crowded locker room full of naked men.

  “It’s okay, Dad. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  His eyes grow so wide they could pop out of his head. But he keeps his cool in front us and rebounds quickly. “We’ll talk about this later, Bex.” His focus shifts from his daughter and back to me. “We have plenty of pizza left. Join us.”

  Bex rolls her eyes at him. “Umm… no, we don’t.” Then she peeks up at me. “Get your own.”

  Coach’s face turns bright red. “Bex, don’t be rude.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She holds her palm to her chest and glares at me. “Did I hurt your feelings, Mr. MVP?”

  My friends laugh at her. Coach isn’t happy, though.

  I clamp my hand down on Coach Bryant’s shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all right we were just grabbing a slice for the road.”

  Coach sighs, deflated. “I’m sorry about my daughter’s behavior. Bex is not normally like this.”

  She flashes an evil grin in my direction.

  My friends are right about Coach Bryant treating me like a son. He has shown me special treatment since freshman year, when he was still the assistant coach. He pulled me aside at the first tryout and told me I had something special and not to waste it on women or booze. Ever since, he’s been more than a coach to me.

  “You can sit.” Bex smacks the open space next to her with her palm. “But you have to get your own pizza. I don’t like to share my food.”

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

  She’s beautiful without even trying, still in the same shorts and fitted jersey from earlier. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves over her breasts. Her face is free of makeup, her lips chapped and with a small cut on the right side. It looks like she was punched.

  Bex doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of her. With just the right amount of sass, she’s the kind of woman I need in my life. It’s weird to think it, but she reminds me of my mom, who’s as strong as they come.

  “We’ll be back,” Tucker says to Coach, tugging at my shoulder to pull me away from the table. “Dude, you were staring at her a little too hard,” he adds, once we have some distance.

  We stop in front of the counter, and Tucker orders a slice for each of us.

  I pull out my wallet, assuming these cheap fucks aren’t paying. Not like they can’t afford it. They have hefty trust funds, too.

  I hand a twenty to the man behind the register, my body angled toward Tucker. “I wasn’t staring. Would you fuck off about it?”

  “She’s trouble,” Jamie says with a smirk. “I can see it already.”

  “I’m not even going there,” I spit back. “Coach’s daughter is out of the question. Even you assholes know that.”

  Drake laughs. “Yeah, but you’re not one to turn down a challenge.”

  He’s right. I learned that from my dad. If Bex were anyone other than my favorite Coach’s daughter, I would have been all over her. I love her attitude. Other than my parents and coaches, no one ever challenges me, especially not women.

  We grab our food from the counter and head back to Coach’s table. Bex glances up at me, this time without a mouth full of food. Wide blue eyes stare back at me, a defiant smirk on her lips.

  Fuck, I’m in trouble.

  Jamie is spot-on about this girl.

  “I’m not getting squished by a bunch of sweaty hockey players,” Bex says, her focus on me. “One of you can sit next to me. That’s it.”

  Is this an invitation?

  Her mouth says one thing, but her eyes say another. If anyone is sitting next to Bex, it’s me.

  “Honey,” Coach growls, and then lowers his voice. “You’re being rude. Apologize to my players, please, and act like a lady.”

  “Act like a lady,” she mumbles, making a funny face at him.

  And it’s adorable. What the fuck? When do I ever call girls adorable? Hot-as-fuck, banging, smoking, maybe even cute are all words I use to describe women, but never adorable. Man, this girl already has my balls in her pocket, and we haven’t even kissed.

  “There’s plenty of room on your side is all I’m saying,” she corrects. “No need for them to make a Bex sandwich. Wouldn’t want to accidentally break one of your rules.”

  His rules?

  Now, this I’m dying to know more about. Coach has rules when it comes to his daughter or his team? I make a mental note to find out whatever I can about Bex. I’m sure she has social media accounts. She also has friends and teammates who will give me dirt.

  Realization sparks in Coach’s eyes. “Tucker and Drake, sit over here with me. Jamie and Trent, pull up two chairs from that table over there.” He points at a table with unused wooden stools.

  We drop our plates to the table and get comfortable. I have no idea what to say after Bex made everything so damn awkward. But leave it to Tucker to make small talk. He has a big mouth—like his father.

  “So…” Tucker says to Bex. “You’re on the women’s basketball team? I hear you’re pretty good.”

  She nods. “Yeah. I’m a shooting guard.”

  I lift the greasy pizza from my plate. “Like my mom.”

  “Bex has a little crush on your mom,” Coach says, and she swats at his hand, telling him to be quiet.

  I turn to look at her, a smile on my face. Maybe this is my way into her closed-off world. “You have a thing for my mom?” I can’t even get out the words without laughing.

  Bex shields the side of her face with her hand. “Dad, seriously, you’re so embarrassing.”

  “What?” Coach Bryant seems unfazed. “It’s true. Bex has been studying your mom’s crossover for years. She was planning to go to Villanova, too, until I persuaded her to come along with me to Strick U.”

  To the sports world, my mom is Coach, one of the best agents in the business. Her face has been on covers of magazines, her deals talked about for years. She saved my father’s career, and then she saved him, too. When they met, he was lost, not realizing he needed help until my mom came into his life. Twenty-five years later they’re still together.

  “Do you want to meet her?” I offer. “I help her coach a little league basketball team at a rec center in South Philly if you want to come along for the ride.”

  Anything to get some alone time with this girl. I’ve never brought a girl home to meet my parents. My mom will go nuts over Bex. She’ll probably have my aunt Sydney planning our wedding by the end of the month. I don�
�t care.

  This is my in with Bex. So, why not? I don’t see the harm. Plus, I’m used to people wanting to meet my parents. It comes with the territory of having a famous family.

  Bex slowly lowers her hand from her face, and our eyes met. “Um… yeah. I would love that. Thanks, Preston.”

  Now, it’s Preston. Not Mr. MVP.

  “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” I remove my cell phone from my pocket and hand it to her. “Text me your address.”

  She adds her number to my phone, texts me her address, then slides it along the table to me. Her smile is so wide it reaches her eyes.

  It’s almost too easy.

  I slip the phone back into my pocket. “Be ready by seven.”

  Her eyebrows rise in confusion. “In the morning?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. The first game starts at eight thirty. My mom has a thing about being late. She’s kind of a stickler when it comes to pre-game.”

  “So, I’ve heard.”

  A moment of silence passes between us, before her dad interrupts. “Bex is starting this year.” His voice oozes with pride. “It’s about time that coach of hers wised up.”

  “Oh, yeah. How come just this year?” Drake mumbles with his mouth full of food.

  “Because my coach had a massive hard-on for Vicki Peterson. Stupid skank.” She says the last part under her breath.

  I knew Vicki. Every guy on campus did. Bex isn’t wrong about the skank part. Almost every guy on our team went a round with her. If the rumors last year were true, her coach did, too.

  “Bex!” Coach’s eyes and mouth widen in shock. “Don’t talk like that about your teammates.”

  “Former teammates,” she corrects.

  He frowns. “Whatever.”

  “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know that Vicki has been passed around more times than the Larry O’Brien NBA Championship Trophy.”

  I try not to laugh and fail. Soda shoots out from Drake’s nose from laughing so hard. Even Coach Bryant joins us because Bex’s comment is funny as shit.

  Bex shrugs. “It’s true. Coach couldn’t stop staring at her boobs for the last three years. I was happy to see her go. Players shouldn’t get special treatment because of how they look in a uniform. His choice in starters was completely biased. I should have been starting since freshman year—not her.”